


In the Shadow of the World

by im_at_my_limit



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Episode: s02e24 Moonvasion!, F/F, Fluff, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Refusing to acknowledge said pining, but i cant write character traits consistently so maybe not, but why, could be read as platonic, i just think shes neat, moonvasion but from pennys pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:20:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25190794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_at_my_limit/pseuds/im_at_my_limit
Summary: Being alone on the moon leaves you with a lot of time to think.  It turns out Della was right about that.Penumbra realizes that Della was right about a lot of things, actually.
Relationships: Della Duck/Penumbra
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	In the Shadow of the World

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic contains 444 commas and every single trope in the universe. Have fun.

Even if she hadn’t been locked in a prison cell and left for dead, Penumbra still would’ve stayed behind and watched the last ship leave for earth out of pure spite. 

And she still would’ve felt the immediate guilt and helplessness that wells up at the sight. 

Not that she can see much of it, anyway. The singular, barred window is at too awkward of an angle to see anything more than dust rolling across the ground as the ship takes off. It’s engines are loud at first, but they gradually fade into silence. 

She’s alone. 

It doesn’t feel any different. She’s been alone for a while now. 

She doesn’t move, not right away. It’s tempting to stay where she is and wait for someone to come back. But nobody’s coming back, not for her, at least. And she’ll never forgive herself if she doesn’t even try. 

Pulling herself away from the window and towards the door, she draws the knife hidden in her boot. Her cell is located directly across from the door’s control panel, so aiming isn’t difficult. She throws with deadly accuracy, and the knife imbeds itself in the glowing screen with a satisfying crack. It’s blue light goes dark, and the door slides open.

Penumbra takes a deep breath before stepping out. She tells herself she’s doing the right thing. “The right thing” is all she can rely on, now. She’s too far gone, and she’s made too many mistakes, for complete loyalty to either side. It feels strange to be forced to live without a concept that used to mean everything to her, but she’s long since realized that she was kind of an idiot back then, and that ‘strange’ doesn’t always have to mean ‘worse’.

She walks to the panel and removes the blade. She knows escaping prison was too easy. The guards had been the only thing keeping her there before now, stationed outside of her cell up until the last minute.

Penumbra’s well aware that she’s the second-best warrior on the entire planet; she’s actually fairly proud of that. If she wanted to, she could've taken out any number of barely-trained moonlanders. But she could never bring herself to hurt one of her own people. And Lunaris knows it, just like he knows there’s nothing she can do to stop his invasion now that it’s already underway. 

She’ll keep trying, though, unrelenting as ever. Navigating through the building’s hallways and stubbornly hoping he’s wrong. 

Her footsteps echo in the empty stone corridors. With nobody else in the building for once, the silence is eerie and uncomfortable.

_The silence is uncomfortable. Penumbra doesn’t want to admit it, but it’s true. She’s spent every night for four months wishing for quiet, and now that she finally has it, she all of the sudden can’t sleep._

_She stares up at her ceiling and sighs into the darkness. She’s found herself doing that a lot recently, only this time there’s no annoying response from across the room. There’s not even any snoring or welding or engine testing or incessant babbling about Earth to drown it out._

_There’s nothing but silence._

_An incredibly unhelpful part of herself, one that she’s trying really hard to ignore, tells her what she already knows: she misses Della._

_She rolls over and buries her face in her pillow out of.. out of what? Anger? Guilt? Embarrassment? Because admitting that she misses Della is admitting that she was wrong, and admitting that she was wrong is realizing that she might be wrong about much, much more. And as it turns out, realizing you might be wrong about everything you thought you knew is not a great feeling._

_The added complication, that of helping deceive her planet’s entire population into battle out of questionable loyalty to her superior, does not help. It’s not that she doesn’t trust the general’s plan, it’s just that she doesn’t quite understand why he’s so sure of it. She wonders why he feels the need to enact it, especially when it could pose dangers to their people. She wants to believe he knows the full extent of what he’s planning, but it’s getting harder and harder not to have doubts._

_As much as Penumbra can figure, she’s just overwhelmed and confused. She shifts in her bed and holds on to the feeble hope that all she needs is rest to clear her mind. She can decide what to do about all of this in the morning._

_A sharp knock on the door jolts her out of her not-sleep._

_“Lieutenant” an unfamiliar voice speaks through her door with urgency, “An unidentified Earther has breached the city’s perimeters. Come at once.”_

_Great. Looks like she’ll be making a decision sooner than she thought._

She winds up in the hangar. She didn’t exactly plan on it, but then again, she doesn’t actually _have_ a plan at all. It’s not the worst place to end up, anyways. If there are any more plans or information about the invasion, they would be here. 

The hangar is slightly more disheveled than when she last saw it. A few spare pieces of scrap metal are strewn across the floor, and some of the holographic screens have been left open. In the center of the room lies Della’s ship, a patchwork of red and gold, along with the remnants of the craft that her brother took to get back to Earth. The ship is damaged from its most recent crash, though not beyond repair. If Penumbra could fix it… 

But she can’t, not without any sort of instructions or idea how the ship works or basic flying ability. She forces herself to move on. 

The hologram hiding the war room has been disabled, so she makes her way over to the space it used to conceal. She searches for any means of communication with the other planet, but she isn’t lucky enough to find anything for a third time. Either she’s run out of backups, or the communicators have been taken on the ships with the rest of her people. It occurs to her that she wouldn’t even know what to say if she had one. Nothing could stop the moonlanders from listening to their general, especially not Penumbra, now that he’s labelled her a traitor. She could warn the earthers, but at this point she’d be too late to tell them anything they don’t already know. _She_ hardly even knows the full extent of Lunaris’ plan. 

Her eyes drift towards the device at the center of the room. With a sigh of resignation, she walks over and starts to sift through the documents saved onto it. Mostly it’s just more of what she’s already seen: failed rocket plans, maps of major Earth cities, detailed profiles of every possible threat. More and more screens are projected around the room as she opens the files one by one. They’re ridiculously thorough, but each word fills her with a new sense of dread. Every detail is a reminder of how long Lunaris has spent working towards this day. All of this is happening, thousands of miles away, as she stands here alone, powerless to stop it. 

She opens one file and a 3D model of Earth flickers on in front of her. She opens the next and-

Oh. 

Around the hangar, pictures of Della’s family blink to life. Penumbra takes a second to look at them. She doesn’t know most of their faces, but she recognizes Della and her brother, Donald. (Logically, he should be dead, now, but given what she knows of him, Penumbra can’t help but doubt it.) The man displayed on the far wall must be the uncle she was always talking about. The three others are probably her children. Della really wasn’t kidding when she said she was a bad artist.

Despite everything, Penumbra finds herself smiling. She knows it’s stupid, but she can’t help hoping Della’s family is okay. That’s weird. She tries to close out the projections, but nothing seems to work. Why should she care about people she’s never even met? Especially when none of them care about her. 

A part of herself tells her she doesn’t actually feel that way, she’s just jealous. She tells it to shut up, and pretends not to notice the panic that flares through her when bright red x’s appear over their pictures. 

The last thing saved to the machine are the controls to open the roof. She activates them, and the little light that floods in illuminates the ship in the middle of the room, glinting off of its scattered golden panels. 

There’s no harm in searching it, she supposes. At this point, any attempt to stop such a well-planned invasion seems futile, but Penumbra’s nothing if not determined against all odds. 

The lowest part of the hangar is by far the most disorganized. Pieces of scrap metal litter the floor, remnants of Lunaris’s first attempts at space travel. Most of them have been hastily pushed off to the side to make room for the other spacecraft. Upon closer inspection, the ship seems to be in relatively good shape. Not good enough to actually fly, but for the most part it looks intact. The main problem is the front, which apparently crumpled in on itself on impact, bending at odd angles and exposing some of the inner mechanisms.

But again, it’s not anything she can fix. She’s not even sure why she’s assessing the damage to begin with. 

She instead turns her attention to the pile of spare parts to her right. Most of it is useless garbage, but while digging through, she manages to find a radio. It, of course, doesn’t work, but she sets it aside before continuing. Further down among the assortment of parts, it gets harder to make out the specifics, but she still feels the twisted, ragged edges of torn metal against her skin. She’s almost reached the bottom of the pile before her hands brush against something decidedly not metallic. 

Pulling it out from under a diamond-shaped golden panel, it appears-

Oh no. 

“Owner’s Manual” is written on the cover of a tattered, dark red book. 

She doesn’t have to wonder what such a valuable source of information is doing there, among literal piles of garbage. She already knows. Penumbra remembers, not for the first time, and definitely not for the last, the one advantage she has over her superior. 

For all of his talk about overcoming fear, using it to his advantage, Lunaris is still very much afraid of the planet Earth. It’s why he scanned the plans into his computer at the first chance he got before discarding them in the same place he discarded an Earth-made ship he’d never dare to use. What’s more is that he expects everyone else to be just as afraid of it as he is. And sure, Penumbra has her own fears, she can admit that now, but using some dumb Earth ship isn’t one of them. The general doesn’t understand that. He thinks the way she treated Della means she’s afraid of Earth just like him, when really she’s just afraid of being replaced, forgotten. Afraid of being wrong about who she is. 

But in the face of every single one of those things, she’s still trying to stop him. And there’s a chance, however small, that she’ll succeed, all because he couldn’t overcome his fear of such a simple object. 

She turns the book over in her hands before opening it. It’s extremely worn and barely held together with tape, but most of the inside text is still legible, even with notes scrawled over it in blue pen. (For some reason, that part makes her happy.) 

She glances over to the ship. She has a plan. It’s not a good plan, it’s reckless and stupid and fueled by enough brash confidence to be dangerous, but that’s nothing she hasn’t done before, right?

_This is not a good plan. Reckless and stupid, nothing she hasn’t done before, but a thousand times more dangerous. If Lunaris has a secret war room hidden behind a wall of holograms, complete with detailed reports of every single threat on Earth, he definitely has a way to keep it safe. Also, he can still electrocute and incapacitate her at literally any time from literally any place with the press of a button._

_But rational thought has never stopped Penumbra before, and it isn’t going to stop her now._

_With the badge still on her mind, she tries once again to pry it from her clothing, almost as a reflex, but to no avail. It’s fine. If all goes according to (admittedly half-baked) plan, nobody will ever find out about what she’s about to do. She’ll still be their hero. She’ll just be… lying to them._

_Okay, it doesn’t sound good, no matter how she puts it. But, if she can’t protect the people she cares about from battle, she can at least make sure all of them know it’s coming. She’s doing the right thing. At least, she thinks so._

_Over the past couple of weeks, the phrase has become a sort of mantra. Disobeying direct orders gets easier the more she does it, but after years of unwavering loyalty, doing something because it feels “right” is the only justification she has. She can admit her definition of “right” might not be entirely clear or consistent. But she knows it doesn’t involve lying your way into a war for personal gain, endangering civilians, and electrocuting anybody who tries to stop you._

_She peers around the corner as quietly as possible. The hallway leading to the hangar is mostly deserted, save for a single guard at the entrance. It’s usually not guarded, but everyone has been taking some extra precautions as of late._

_Feigning confidence, she takes a deep breath before walking over to them. They’re leaning against the wall, obviously tired, but upon seeing her, they do their best to appear alert._

_“Captain Penumbra,” they say, fixing their helmet and standing to face her. “I didn’t expect to see anyone out so late. What are you doing here?”_

_She takes another breath before answering. “I need to access the hangar.”_

_“Oh, yeah, of course. It’s just- well, the general said not to let anyone in and-”_

_“He gave me permission.” She holds her breath._

_The guard tilts their head and squints their eyes in deliberation. “I still don’t know if it’s a good idea. Maybe you should come back later.”_

_Well, there goes the plan. Now she can either give up, or keep going and be labelled a traitor to her entire planet._

_She’s surprised at how easy of a choice it is._

_“No, it’s fine. You can just let him know when your shift ends if you don’t trust me.”_

_“Of course I trust you!” they say without hesitation, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. That stings, a little bit, but Penumbra can’t bring herself to regret what she’s doing, not when so much is at stake._

_They continue, “But telling him does make me feel better about it, if you don’t mind.”_

_“I don’t,” she says as they move away from the door to let her pass. “When_ does _your shift end, anyway?”_

_“Uh, in about thirteen minutes.”_

_Thirteen minutes. Okay. She can do this. “Great, thanks.”_

_They rush out a “no problem”, but she hardly even hears it, already past the door and in the hangar. Adrenaline pumps through her veins as she brushes her hand along the wall. At least she knows what to look for, now. Eventually, the marbled rock dissolves and gives way to another room._

_Another deep breath. Another reassurance that she’s doing the right thing._

_It doesn’t take long to find what she’s looking for. She’s known Lunaris long enough to know that he’s organized, and he always has a backup. He wouldn’t have been so confident in breaking the communication device if he didn’t have another. Sure enough, a replacement is already sitting in its spot next to the model of Earth. She grabs it and starts to turn away when the hologram’s blue light suddenly changes to red. A block of text is displayed over the miniature planet._

_“DEFENSE SATELLITES DISABLED.”_

_That probably isn’t good. There’s a sinking feeling in her stomach._

_Gripping the communicator more tightly, she races up to the hangar’s highest level to record her message._

_One more deep breath._

_“This is Lieutenant Penumbra for her friend, Della Duck.”_

_She won’t remember, afterwards, what else she said, but she’ll remember not being able to keep the fear out of her voice while she said it._

_And then it’s over. Her breathing is shaky and erratic. She lets the communicator fall to the floor with a clatter. It could snap in half, for all she cares, she’s done what she needed to do. Della won’t be safe, no-one will, but at least she’ll be prepared._

_Penumbra sinks down to her knees out of exhaustion and stares at the Earth through the open ceiling. The swirling mass of sky and clouds hangs peaceful and unaware among the stars. It really isn’t that bad. Not as good as the moon, obviously, but still not that bad. It doesn’t deserve what her people are going to do to it. Moreover, the people who live there don’t deserve any of what will happen to them. Even if some of those people are annoying idiots who don’t know when to quit and refuse to leave her alone. (She’s not smiling. Shut up.)_

_Not much time passes before she hears the commotion out in the hall. Angry yelling and harsh footsteps getting louder and closer by the second. She’s not scared, though. She made her choice. These are the consequences._

_She can tell what’s going to happen right before it does, as she feels her hair stand on end. For a moment, the crackle of electricity fills the air and she’s paralyzed with a familiar_

_sharp, burning pain. Then her vision goes dim for a second, and she finds herself against the floor, somehow even more exhausted than before, and unable to move._

_She can’t tilt her head up to see her superior’s face, but she can still hear his voice and footsteps as he approaches._

_“I must say I’m disappointed in you, Penumbra.”_

_His words are long and drawn out. Revulsion pools in her chest upon hearing them._

_“Helping a traitor? Putting your own planet in danger? I expected better from you.”_

_She realizes what he’s doing. There are a few guards trailing slowly behind him, drawn to the source of his yelling in curiosity._

_He continues, walking in circles around her body._

_“I was merciful to give you a second chance after your first little rebellion, but you won’t be getting another.” A whispered murmur travels through the small crowd that has formed on the floor beneath them._

_“Not that it would have mattered.”_

_Lunaris leans down to meet her eyes, but not all the way, just enough so Penumbra can see the smug expression on his face. She wants to punch him across the jaw, but her stupid arms are still paralyzed._

_He tones his voice down, so that the others can’t hear him._

_“The Earth doesn’t stand a chance. Your ‘friends’ will be crushed beneath my army, and nothing you can say or do will be able to save them. You’ve failed.”_

_She wants to argue, to tell him that he’s wrong. But she’s tired, and her vision is going dark, and she’s not even sure that she believes it. The last thing she hears before blacking out is the click of his shoes against the floor, walking away from her to address the group with more lies about betrayal._

_After who-knows-how-long, she wakes up in prison, with nothing but his words, still ringing in her head, to keep her company._

One more try. She flips the switch on the side of the radio and static fills the otherwise empty air. This time, though, barely audible words make their way through the speaker along with it. They’re mostly just infrequent, boring transmissions about which cities have been secured so far and the progress made on landing the engine, but if there’s any important announcements, Penumbra will be able to hear them. 

She sighs and sits down on the rocky surface of the moon. Climbing up here through the roof of the hangar was the only way she could get within range of the signal after doing her best to fix the broken radio. It’s still dented in some places, the volume buttons don’t do anything and only one out of two speakers is working, but it’s usable. She wishes she could say the same for Della’s ship. 

For hours, she’s read the manual and inspected the inner workings, stopping occasionally to weld together a broken pipe or replace a bent piece of paneling. The damage was actually less than she’d feared. At least, she thinks so, because the ship _looks_ fine, but it still won’t start. The past couple of hours have consisted of re-reading the manual and correcting all of the mistakes she made the first time she read it. She’d decided to take a break though, after the eighth failed attempt to start the engine, when she’d punched the side of the ship in frustration and, predictably, hurt her hand against the metal. 

And she hates to admit it, but she needs rest.

Leaning her back against the triangular rock that conceals the hangar, she stares out across the expanse of space, trying to ignore the roar of the planetary engine heading slowly towards Earth. 

The stars look like they always do, tiny pinpricks of light shining across an endless dark void. It’s comforting, because she’s seen them a million times and they never really change. Their placement in the shroud of darkness is certain in a way that the rest of her life no longer is. 

That’s not entirely a bad thing, though. Well, it sucks, but it’s not _all_ bad. Penumbra hates being lied to, so if she finds out the cause she’s devoted her entire life to is actually one giant lie, maybe it’s for the better that that has to change. 

And she feels a little less… alone, now that she’s fighting (if you can call it that) for the sake of people who might _actually like_ her. 

Unless that was just another lie. 

A voice, obscured by static, makes its way through the radio’s speaker. 

“The landing was successful, sir. The engine should be ready for activation within the next few minutes”

If there’s a response buried underneath the static, she doesn’t hear it. 

The transmission is enough to spur her into action. She’s tired, but there’s no telling how long she has until the other planet freezes over. And she’s _pretty_ sure that Earthers can’t live without the sun. So that’s not great. 

Before heading back down, she takes one last look at the stars, searching them for answers. 

_Once again, the stars don’t have any answers for her. They simply sit there, unchanging, mocking her and everything her life has become. It’s not their fault, she knows, but she can’t help being angry at, well, everything._

_At least out here, it’s quiet, and she won’t be bothered by any horrible scheming Earth spies. She leans against the wall, resting her head on her knees and closing her eyes._

_Which she immediately opens upon hearing the sound of mismatched footsteps steadily growing closer. It’s a sound she knows all too well. Penumbra has to keep herself from outwardly groaning in frustration._

_“Hey Penny,” Della’s cheery voice, suddenly coming from beside her, grates against her nerves. “What are you doing here?”_

_“This is my backyard,” Penumbra answers flatly._

_“You mean_ our _backyard.” She looks very pleased with herself._

_Penumbra rolls her eyes in exasperation. Della, as bad at reading social cues as ever, walks right over and sits next to her, either not noticing or not caring about the way that Penumbra stiffens and very obviously moves away._

_“Ooh, are we stargazing?”_

_“_ We _are not doing anything. And I don’t ‘stargaze.’ I’m strategizing.” She decides to leave out the ‘about ways to kill annoying earthers.’_

_“Aw, it’s okay, I won’t tell anyone.”_

_Penumbra starts to say something, but ultimately decides it isn’t worth it. Della would never listen to her anyway._

_They sit in silence for a few moments. It’s almost bearable, despite having the incarnation of every collective disaster within the bounds of the universe at her side._

_It’s not surprising that Della is the first to speak. What_ is _surprising is how quietly she does so, like she’s actually deep in thought._

_“Y’know, back on Earth, you can’t see the stars like this all the time.”_

_“What?” Penumbra can’t help sounding genuinely surprised._

_“Well, the Earth spins around every day, and when the side you’re on is facing the sun, you can’t see them anymore. You see the sky and the clouds and stuff instead.” She makes little motions with her hands as she talks, which is probably evil, somehow._

_“That sounds awful. I don’t know what I expected from such a miserable planet.”_

_“Hey, it’s not that bad,” Della gently bumps their shoulders together. Penumbra instinctively reaches for a weapon at the unexpected contact, and settles for moving even farther away when she doesn’t find one._

_Her companion (ugh) continues, unaware, “I think it makes the stars more special when you can’t always see them.”_

_“Whatever,” Penumbra huffs. Deciding she’s had enough of this for one day and possibly forever, she hauls herself to her feet and dusts herself off. “Shouldn’t you be working on your dumb rocketship, anyway?”_

_Della sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. Just needed a break.” She stands up and smiles at Penumbra. “Nice talkin’ to ya, Penny.”_

_“No, it wasn’t.”_

_Della laughs at that, for some reason, before turning and skipping away, her carefree smile never faltering._

_Something that feels dangerously close to fondness works its way across Penumbra’s mind. But she buries it deep and straightens herself up, twisting her face into a scowl and marching away._

“If the earthers won’t live in fear of the moon, then they’ll die in fear of it!”

The harsh, angry words, made sharper by the crackle of static, sear themselves into Penumbra’s head as she fumbles with the ship’s cables. She tries to ignore the sound of her heart pounding in her chest and focus on the instructions written in the manual. There are only minutes, maybe seconds, before the Earth becomes a lifeless, broken, icy husk along with everyone on its surface, which just so happens to include every person and non-person she’s ever cared about in her entire life. 

It will probably work this time. She decides not to think about the last twelve times she’s thought those exact words. 

Running her hands along the last two disconnected cables, she double checks the manual, attaches them to each other, and hopes for the best. 

For a terrifying second, the only noises are the fragmented, panicked transmissions from the radio. But, finally, the ship hums to life and the buttons on the console light up, one by one. The relief that floods her body is almost enough to wash away the fear of what she’s about to do. Almost. 

Penumbra still hesitates before stepping into the cockpit. She is, after all, most likely signing her own death warrant. But she won’t let that stop her. She won’t let fear persuade her into throwing away another chance to make things right. Fear of the unknown is why Lunaris is destined to fail. Overcoming that fear is why _she_ won’t. 

Steeling herself, she takes her seat at the console. She’s doing the right thing. Saving millions of lives for the cost of one. The risk has never stopped her before, why should it stop her now?

Maybe because it’s more of a certainty than a ‘risk’. 

Another garbled transmission from the radio at her side is an abrupt reminder of what’s at stake. In a sudden moment of reckless bravery, she flips the switch labelled ‘emergency launch.’ There’s a pang of regret at the action’s familiarity, but no time to dwell. The rumble of engines fills the air, nearly blocking out the recorded voice counting down from forty. 

When it reaches eight, Penumbra remembers that she’s never piloted anything before. And that’s the last thought she has before the ship takes off, jolting sharply upwards and blurring her surroundings into obscurity. 

She grasps the stick like a lifeline. Mostly because she at least knows that that’s what you use to steer, but also to stop her hands from shaking. She pushes forward, and the ship evens out in response, barreling across the void between the moon and the Earth. 

In the distance, but rapidly coming closer, is the engine, blazing with blue fire and steady in its course. It looks like she has a clear-

No, wait. Another ship, miniscule in comparison to the massive engine, maneuvers between projectiles and across the surface. Turrets turn to smoking debris in its wake. 

There’s only one Earther stupid enough (or, she begrudgingly admits, _brave_ enough) to be flying that thing. Apparently, the very real, very likely possibility of death isn’t enough to stop Della either. 

At least until her ship makes one final turn towards the back of the engine, only to be bombarded by a tight grid of lasers. It shudders against their impact. But still, it pushes onward toward inevitable doom, slowly burning in the heat of the fire. 

Penumbra, staring in horror, and yet still speeding towards the sight that inspires it, flinches at the screech that sounds from the console in front of her, cutting through the silence of space. The screeching soon gives way to static. It seems she’s within range now to send and receive transmissions to the other ships, but there’s nothing to say. She’s never been the best with words, anyway. What she’s about to do will have to speak for her. 

There’s a voice among the static. It’s impossible to hear what it says, but she can tell it’s Della’s, and she can tell it’s hopeless and terrified and unbearably sad.

She’ll never admit it, but _that’s_ what gives her the resolve she needs to push as far forward on the controls as possible. Fixing her vision on the ball of blue flame powering the engine and flying directly at it. 

‘’Penumbra?” Lunaris’s disbelief, and his fear, is evident in his voice. (Is that voice seriously the last thing she’s ever going to hear? Gross.)

She wants to call him a coward. She wants to tell him she hates him. Most of all, she wants to tell him that he’s the one who failed, in the end. 

But that’s not the reason she’s doing this. Bravery doesn’t come from hatred. It comes from the willingness to protect the people you care about. It’s his own fault that he never had a chance to care after pushing everyone away. 

Almost as an afterthought, she slams down a button on the console and speaks to him through clenched teeth. At least he’ll know for sure what finally stopped him.

“Hello, General.”

The world turns a blinding white. She feels the impact, and hears the roar of an explosion, but it feels so disconnected from the searing pain and the ringing in her ears. Eventually, even those sensations dim, replaced with a numbing blackness. 

The last thing she expects is to survive. 

Later, she’ll ask Donald, the only other person she knows who faced death via fiery explosion in the vacuum of space and lived, how it was possible. He’ll mumble something that Penumbra can’t quite make out, because she never can. But he’ll be looking at the rest of his family as he says it, and they’ll be running and yelling through the house, generally causing havoc. And she won’t exactly know the answer, but she’ll understand. Because they’re sort of her family now, too. (All of them take after Della in the fact that they’re very hard to get rid of.)

But that won’t be for a long time. 

For now, she stumbles onto the ship through the airlock and nearly collapses from exhaustion. She hasn’t slept for a day or two, and she hasn’t slept _well_ in weeks, kept awake by some mixture of determination, adrenaline and frustration. But she manages to keep herself standing for long enough to gaze around the room. Seven pairs of eyes stare back. It’s strange, a little overwhelming, seeing so many people she’s only heard about in stories. She’s not sure what to think, a little wary of them. They look equally as wary of her. 

Well, most of them do.

Donald looks more relieved and unbothered than she’s ever seen him. Also, he’s alive, which doesn’t surprise her as much as it should. Della is staring up at her, eyes wide, and grinning like an idiot. Predictably, she is the first to break the silence. 

“So do you want, like, a blanket, or something?”

It’s such a stupid question. What’s even more stupid is the wave of emotions that washes over Penumbra when she hears it. Because Della is _here_ and Della doesn’t hate her and they’re both alive and it’s going to be alright. And Penumbra missed her more than she’ll ever say.

She’s never been the best with words, anyway. 

Instead, she drops to her knees and wraps her arms around Della. It’s not a gesture she really understands, but it feels like the right thing to do, and that seems to be working out lately. The hug is happily returned. 

They stay like that for a few seconds, or minutes, or maybe decades. But eventually, Penumbra pulls back in order to wipe the beginnings of what are definitely not tears from her eyes. Della leans back as well, but keeps her arms loosely draped around her friend’s neck. 

When Penumbra looks up, a little embarrassed and far too emotional, Della’s already staring back at her with the smuggest look imaginable. 

“See, best friends! Just like I said.”

Against her will, Penumbra huffs a laugh. 

“Dummy… “ 

Fondness seeps into her voice, but she’s too tired and relieved to care. She wants to hug Della again, or… or something, but she decides not to. The unfortunate realization that there are still things left to do (namely, getting somewhere besides the middle of space) is finally starting to set in. She gently moves away and lets Della’s hands fall from her shoulders. 

But it only takes a second before she’s on her feet, grabbing Penumbra’s arm to help her up and pulling her along towards the others. 

“You still wanted to meet my family, right?”

“Of course.”

Della stops in her tracks and turns around. “Wow, that actually sounded genuine. You sure that explosion didn’t mess with your head?”

“No, I think it was the almost dying.”

“Oh, okay,” She keeps walking, unfazed. “You’ll get used to it.”

The rest of the ride home is a blur. 

There are a few rushed introductions and a lot of explanations, but they set a course for Earth and start towards it with only a small argument over who gets to drive. It ends up being Donald, much to his sister’s annoyance. Penumbra tunes out the grumbling and double checks their course. 

The children, mostly quiet up until now, gravitate towards her at the controls. All four stare with identical looks of awe. 

She’s not sure what to say, still a little cautious around them.

“Um… hi?”

As soon as they’ve been acknowledged, they waste no time launching into questions, crowding together and talking over each other. 

“What does evolution look like in an environment without oxygen?”

“Is this real? Can you show me how to fire it?”

“So exactly how much gold do you have up there?”

“Hi, I’m Webby, do you want to be friends?”

None of them even wait for answers before moving on to their next questions. It’s a little tiring to try and keep up, but it isn’t that bad. Penumbra answers when she can, and their eyes light up as they listen. That almost makes the headache worth it. 

Before long, the ship lands on solid ground. The doors open with a hissing noise and sunlight floods in. 

Earth is a lot brighter than she expected. It’s also a lot louder, with more people than she’s ever seen in one place. She can tell why it might have once seemed intimidating. 

The kids bid her a quick goodbye before rushing through the open door with the others in tow. Della gives a small wave before being dragged along into the crowd. 

Penumbra starts to follow, but hesitates before stepping out onto the grass. She tilts her head and squints her eyes against the sun. It hangs alone in the bright blue sky, accompanied only by the occasional wispy cloud. There are no stars; the future is uncertain. But that’s not entirely a bad thing. If the future were certain, she would be dead. 

She takes a deep breath and steps into the light. 

The afternoon passes in a frenzy of colors and excitement. She exchanges some friendly waves with the other moonlanders, and suffers through even more introductions. Because, as it turns out, Della’s family is _huge_ , and possibly includes everyone in the entire city. It gets a little ridiculous when she finds herself trying to start a conversation with something that is apparently a horse. 

But somehow, the chaos slowly starts to lessen, and the crowd thins as the day wears on. People and families trail back to their homes with tired eyes. Penumbra stays, because she has nowhere else to go. 

When the sun dips below the horizon, she’s sitting atop the overturned wreckage of a badly-landed ship and watching it go. Pink and orange briefly stretch across the sky before melting into black. The night brings with it a familiar silence.

When that silence is suddenly interrupted by the echo of mismatched footsteps against metal, she doesn’t flinch. Those are familiar, too. 

“Hey, Penny.” Della’s smiling, because she always is, but it’s softer than usual. Less energetic. “Sorry for leaving you earlier, I was just excited to be back home. And, y’know, not dead.”

Penumbra knows the feeling, but she doesn’t respond. 

Della keeps talking, “Anyways, I told the other moonlanders they could stay at the mansion for tonight. I came to get you, too.” 

She says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like Penumbra never betrayed her or tried to kill her or put her entire family in danger. It doesn’t make any sense.

“Why?”

Della looks completely dumbfounded. She stutters trying to find words. 

“Wh-what do you mean ‘why’? Why wouldn’t I come get you?” 

“Because- I-,” She takes a deep breath. “You shouldn’t trust me. I’m not a good person.” 

It hurts to say out loud, even if she’s known it for a while. 

Della doesn’t look convinced, though. “Penny, you literally just saved the entire world. That’s about as good as it gets,” she holds out her hand. 

“I-I don’t-” Penumbra really wants to take it, but she knows she doesn’t deserve this. She turns away, pulling her knees up to her chest and burying her face in her arms. Sure, she’s glad Della doesn’t hate her, but she can’t understand why. Why does she still have to care about her when holding grudges is so much easier? 

But Penumbra already knows the answer. 

Della is, and she’s always been, much too stubborn to make things easy.

“I’m not leaving until you decide to come back with me,” she says, crossing her arms.

A few seconds of quiet.

“That might take a while,” Penumbra admits. 

“I’ll wait.” 

With that, Della sits down next to her. 

They watch as the black of the night sky deepens and the first stars blink into existence among it’s depths. The moon appears tiny and insignificant from so many miles away. It bathes their surroundings in a soft glow. Della sighs and moves closer, leaning against Penumbra’s shoulder. Her voice is low and tired. 

“It’s not the same, is it?”

There’s no denying it. The city lights wash over the sky and blend with most of the stars in a greyish haze. Intricate constellations are reduced to smudges. 

“It’s certainly… strange,” Penumbra turns to Della. 

Della’s eyes are very different from hers. They’re big enough and dark enough that they reflect every tiny pinprick of light from what little stars are strewn above. 

Penumbra lets her gaze linger for a second before continuing. 

“But that doesn’t have to mean it’s worse.”

A part of herself, one that’s suddenly back and suddenly very hard to ignore, tells her it may even be better. 

But she can decide what that means in the morning. They have all the time in the world. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
